


The Confession

by Filthmonger



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa 3: The End of 希望ヶ峰学園 | The End of Kibougamine Gakuen | End of Hope's Peak High School, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Creampie, Dubious Consent, F/M, Hope, POV Female Character, POV Second Person, Rough Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-29
Updated: 2017-01-29
Packaged: 2018-09-20 16:07:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9499499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Filthmonger/pseuds/Filthmonger
Summary: You're finally going to do it: finally going to tell him how you feel! Hopefully nothing terrible will happen whilst the two of you are alone together...





	

**Author's Note:**

> Although this is tagged "Dubious Consent", i felt I better put the warning on just in case. It's... pretty vague. Blame the client, I guess.

Your fingers tighten upon the folded paper, creating new creases across the thoroughly abused confession. Each slow step echoes through the corridors; sharply breaking through the low rhythm that your heart pounds into your ears. The elegantly decorated hallways, still sparkling with droplets of water and dyed with a pleasant peach sunset, seem so eerily still and ominous without the bustle of the students. Your floral perfume –guaranteed to get your man, or your money back!- clashes harshly with the acrid remnants of bleach and other off-brand cleaning products. You swallow. You remember how many days it has taken for you to prepare yourself for this; remember the first time your heart skipped a beat as the warm smile in his pale green eyes flashed in your direction. For the briefest of moments your nerves flutter away like the butterflies in your stomach. The steps seem to become harder and harder as you climb the spiralling stairs upwards; a dozen new anxious thoughts flocking to your mind like twisted vultures circling a corpse. More creases crack across the page as your destination nears; the signalling sign looming. You barely remember to breathe. The corners of your mouth worry and twitch as memories of light laughter corrupt themselves into mocking tones of rejection. You struggle to repel the grim prophecies as your shaking hand reaches for the doorknob. The phantom’s taunting is joined by a dozen other faceless fears that batter and claw at your resolve hungrily. For a second, you relent. For a second your hand falters. But only for one; you turn the knob and fling the door open.

Empty. Abandoned. Devoid of any soul save for you. Your heart plummets as you step into the classroom, peering out across freshly dusted desks and neatly arranged equipment. A quick peek back into the hall reaffirms that this is the correct classroom, though you guessed as much from the subtle signs of reconstruction on the far wall; you’ve heard interesting stories about this class… You make your way to one of the empty seats at the back, running your hand along bored scribbles and curious stains in the woodwork of the other desks. Your eyes flick to the clock. It’s okay, you say to yourself, you’re just a little early. Or he’s just a little late. You take a seat, smoothing out the crumpled note, and wait.

And wait.

And wait…

The faint hope flickering in your chest tries to remind you that you’re just early; that if you wait just a bit longer… But the insidious doubt has already settled. Your fingers tighten to a fist, crumpling your written feelings as you stare out at the fiery sky. You should have known he wouldn’t come. Who would respond to an anonymous letter anyway? You sigh heavily, standing up and dragging your feet towards the door. The confession flutters forlornly into a nearby garbage can. Your head stays hung and your eyes firmly on the ground, even as you slide the door open. You don’t even register the other person into you collide into him. With a yelp of pain you tumble back to the floor, a sharp jab shooting through your legs and backside as they meet the hard wood. You sit up, wincing and apologising even as you take his helping hand.

“Oh, my apologies.” Komaeda says. “I didn’t realise there was anyone else still here. I hope I didn’t startle you too much.”

It’s him. You squeak timidly as your eyes widen; it’s really him. The unmistakably fluffy mess of white hair, dyed a beautiful pale orange in the sunset, looms above you. A kind, handsome face sits below it; his usual sickly pallor offset by the warmth of his smile and heartfelt care in his pale green eyes. Your pulse quickens and your grip tightens on his slender hand as he pulls you to your feet. You mumble a quick thanks, your mouth suddenly dry and your hands fiddling in front of your hips. If he’s aware of your nerves, he doesn’t show it. He looks at you in a bizarrely wistful and expectant kind of way and your cheeks erupt with heat. You force a swallow, and eventually manage to ask him about the letter.

“A note…?” Komaeda says “I don’t remember finding a note at all. One of my classmates must have misplaced it. Well, if they didn’t think it was important, then who am I to disagree?” He cocks his head and smiles again at you. Your heart plummets, despite the warm fuzziness his smile inspires. You stammer out a quiet ‘oh’, suddenly unable to keep eye contact; you mumble an excuse, pushing past him and towards the still open door. “Oh, how rude of me… If you’re here as well, then surely you must have gotten a similar note.” You stop dead in your tracks. “If that’s the case, then it’s lucky that I bumped into you!” He continues. “After all, I would hate to disappoint an Ultimate Student…”

Your heart pounds wildly in your chest as you slowly turn to him, eyes screwed shut as your courage wanes and desperation wells. Struggling to organise your screaming thoughts you fumble for words, eventually steadying yourself with a long, slow breath. You try to recall your discarded words and confess: confess to writing the letter he never received; confess to staring at him from afar each and every day before and after class; confess to being unable to think about anything other than his fluffy white hair, or his calm and comforting face. You confess everything, right down to planning this very evening for over a month before finally dredging up the courage to beg one of his classmates –the Ultimate Traditional Dancer, you think- to leave the letter on his desk. The heat in your cheeks builds with each rambling sentence that tumbles out of your mouth. Finally you run out of words and force yourself to say the three that have been repeating themselves in your head every day since you first laid eyes on him.

“… I see. How unfortunate.” Komaeda says after several agonising seconds of silence. Immediately his hands are raised and his smile has returned. “Don’t misunderstand me; to learn that someone as wonderful and talented as you has such feelings for scum like me… it fills me with so much hope! Hope that others too could feel such love...” He stares wistfully into the dying light. “But it is unfortunate that you have fallen for someone like me. When I was a child, my parents both died in an accident… ever since then, terrible things have happened to those who get close to me. Without fail, my luck has brought them despair…” For a brief moment his smile wavers. “Knowing that… could you still do it? Would you still risk everything for a worthless pest like me?”

You don’t even give yourself time to think before you blurt your answer out. Your fingers clench tightly around his hand as you reiterate your devotion to his shocked face. You tell him you don’t care. You tell him you’re willing to endure whatever life throws at you, as long as he’s willing to give you a shot. He blinks, stunned for a second, before a soft chuckle leaks out of him.

“Magnificent! To pledge to endure such dark despair… oh, it fills me with such bright hope!” He cries. Something changes; the soft light that lit his face up before now creates harsh, menacing shadows. His warm smile seems emptier, and his eyes seem fixated on you. “But… You don’t understand. You could never understand my misfortune without first seeing it for yourself.” He stands, looming above you like a spectre. You back away, shaking slightly as he advances towards you. A fearful jolt shoots up your spine as your back presses against the blackboard, followed by a squeak as Komaeda’s hand rests beside your head.

“Just imagine how terrible it would be for a piece of trash like me to take… advantage of the fact that you’re here alone. All by yourself…” He leans into you, his breath tickling your face. A hand brushes up your thigh and another lightly strokes your cheek, the fingers resting at your chin. “Imagine how it would feel for someone as beautiful and talented as you to be… defiled by me.” He finishes, harshly pressing his lips to yours. Your eyes widen as his tongue forces itself into your mouth and his hand slips beneath your skirt. His fingers roughly squeeze and grab at your arse and chest, setting you squirming beneath him. Your hands weakly press against his chest, trying to throw him from you, but he effortlessly pulls them away; pinning you to the blackboard by your wrists. He bites and kisses your exposed neck; red welts forming soon after each assault. The scent of his hair fills your nose and you yearn to reach forward and run your fingers through it; to hold him by the soft mess as he thrusts his tongue back into your throat. You wriggle and writhe, trying to pull yourself out of his grip. You plead and beg; this isn’t how you wanted it! But your body pulses with fearful thrills and excited flushes. It yearns, craves… needs more!

He breaks from your neck, releasing your hands as he pulls away. You cry out as he rips your shirt open; the buttons clattering across the polished floor. The shock alone would be enough to keep you from covering up, but knowing that he can see everything… your cheeks and cunt burn brighter and brighter as his gaze lingers. Goosebumps sweep over your skin as your stomach and chest are exposed to the evening chill; the latter soon engulfed in the heat of Komaeda’s pale hands as they knead and grope the sensitive flesh. You beg as he tugs the cups of your bra away; whimper as bony fingers harshly tug at your hardened nipples; gasp as his hot mouth latches onto your collarbone. Jabs of pain leap through you as he twists and rolls and pinches the delicate dark buds tipping your breasts. Pain that drives you wild with need. With lust.

One of his hands relents, quickly replaced by wet lips and a hot tongue. You strangle a moan in your throat; squeaking as teeth lightly squeeze the abused nipple. Your fingers wrap tightly around his arms as if to offer some half-hearted resistance. His slip past the hem of your skirt. You tense, your hips grinding back against his digits as they brush along the damp patch in your panties. Brushing quickly turns to grinding as he assaults your cunt through the thin cotton of your underwear. Shaky moans escape amidst laboured panting as he forces pulses of pleasure out of your most sensitive spots; your trembling hands still putting up the merest token of defence. His mouth pops off your nipple, the chill of wet skin sending a little shiver through you as he rises.

“Oh my… that’s not the reaction I was expecting at all.” Komaeda says. His pale green eyes lock with yours, the warm and mildly creepy smile still pulling the corners of his mouth. “Perhaps I underestimated you… perhaps your hope truly can overcome the despair of my bad luck!” His fingers grind harder, as if to emphasise his epiphany. His lips are so close to yours… you whine, squirming against his ministrations. He chuckles gently, a hand moving gently from your breast to cup your head. Your eyes lock with his; gentle, caring and almost a little forlorn. Something malicious flashes in his face. Your heart stops for a split second as you’re thrown forward, smacking painfully upon the wooden desk with a shriek and a clatter. You try to push yourself back to standing, ignoring the lack of breath and aching pain in your chest but his hand presses firmly against your shoulders.

“The only way to know for sure is to put your hope to the test…” He continues. “I can only give you a taste of what you’ll endure… but I won’t blame you if it’s too much for you. Only the greatest hope could survive the life I’ve lived.” You crane your neck, looking past bedraggled strands of hair; eyes following his free arm as it descends below his waist. You whimper as the rustle and metallic slide of a zipper echoes in the silent room. Desperate pleas of “No!” and “Stop!” race out of you as he pulls your soaked panties away from your sopping wet cunt. But your body pleads for more; it silently screams “Oh god, yes!” and shivers with anticipation. His hand forces you back down onto the desk, the other grasping your hips tightly. You bite your lip and with a rough, quick thrust he enters you.

You moan loudly at the sudden sensation of fullness. God, he feels huge! Almost painfully stretching your inner walls as he slides deeper and deeper. You quiver on his cock as he clumsily finds a rhythm, grinding your hips back against his. The sharp sound of his skin slapping against your arse fills your ears, punctuated by your own animalistic moans as each thrust sends waves of intense heat through your body. He releases your back, instead reaching forward and grasping a rough handful of your hair. You gasp with both pain and delight as your head is pulled back violently; fresh bursts of both flooding your mind as his tight grip pulls you by your scalp to the rhythm of his hips. Amidst your shaky moans and pleased whimpers you can just barely hear his shallow breath. He sounds restrained, almost desperate. You clench anything you can and press back against his hips, trying to silently signal that it’s okay; that you can take the worst. That you want it.

A flash of pain is your reward as his hand strikes your arse. You’re suddenly grateful for the desk beneath you as successive smacks cause your knees to buckle and your back to arch. His grip on your hair tightens as yours does upon the wooden edge. His pace quickens, forcing louder moans and excited screams of pleasure from you as the wonderful heat builds and builds to almost unbearable levels. You can hear him groaning behind you as he pounds away at your tight cunt; can feel him shudder as your tensing body squeezes his cock inside you. Another spank sets your limbs aquiver; another rough tug on your hair has you gasping excitedly; another hesitation in his hips makes you whimper with growing need. It’s all too much and not enough and ever so close…!

An explosion of white knocks the last few dredges of thought from your mind. Your eyes roll back and your body convulses as you scream in unrestrained delight. Aftershocks wrack your limbs and arch your back, your tongue pushing slightly out of your open mouth as gasping breaths punctuate each wonderful spasm from your cunt. A last breathy moan, laden with his name, and you tumble back onto the hard wooden desk. You twitch gently, barely registering anything. Something slips out of you; a soft hand slowly turns you onto your back; a pulse of pleasure runs up your spine as the fullness returns to your sensitive cunt. The haze falters and fades slowly, quickly replaced by the wonderful hardness of Komaeda’s cock resuming its pounding. You lie there, panting heavily as he uses you for his own pleasure, surrounded by the heavy scents of sweat and sex.  
“Hah… you’re enduring quite well.” He says. His hands grip your hips tightly and his breath is shallow as he languidly indulges himself “As should be expected from someone as wonderful as you. Still… one terrible act alone is incomparable to a lifetime. Perhaps another test… one with a much higher risk.” His thrusting returns to its previous pace, eliciting pleased squeals from you and heavy breaths from him. “I do wonder… would pregnancy be considered good luck… or bad?” He finishes, a crazed smile tugging at his mouth.

Panic slices through the barrage of sensation. Your feet, previously wrapped lightly around his thin waist, now press insistently against his still clothed chest. Your hands scramble for something to hold as you desperately dredge up the willpower to pull yourself from his shaft. Slender hands firmly hold your waist in place against the desk even as you squirm against his sweaty grip. You whimper, you beg, you plead! You’re not ready, you can’t risk it! You press harder and harder against his shoulders with your feet, but he just takes you by the thighs and presses your knees up against your chest; pounding your aching, greedy cunt with renewed vigour. Moans leak from you as he finds new spots for his cock to grind against as he plunges right to his hilt. Your begging grows more and more desperate as you watch his handsome face contort with pleasure and effort. One of his hands leaps from your thigh to grip your throat, silencing another protest. His grip is firm, but gentle; tightening slowly as his rhythm grows more and more erratic.

He lets out a strangled mix between a moan and a gasp, his hand slipping away from your throat and onto the desk. The darkness at the edge of your vision slinks away as new air rushes into your lungs, before quickly leaving again as a low groan. His head hangs low, sweat drenched locks of hair tickling your chest as he slams himself as deep inside you as he can; half formed breaths punctuating each desperate thrust. A softly moaned “No…” floats out of you, but it’s far too late: already you can feel his body tense against yours; feel his cock pulse wonderfully against your exhausted walls; feel the intense heat blossom out of him. Almost instinctively you clench against him, as if to milk the last few drops from his cock. You even feel a little cheated as the pulsing stops and he slowly withdraws his cock; you whimper as the tip slips from your cunt, a little dribble of hot cum spilling out of you as your legs relax. You can barely hear anything besides your own heartbeat and laboured breathing. Your body aches from freshly settled bruises and blush-red welts. You lazily watch Komaeda neaten himself somewhat as you lie spent on the desk. The malice and insanity have long since left the face you fell in love with, replaced again by the calm and comforting smile; his eyes are kind, almost pained, as he looks down at you.

“My apologies… I shouldn’t have been so rough with you.” He says. “It pains me greatly to do such things to someone as wonderful as you. But I had to be sure… if you could not endure something as unfortunate as this, then my life and the despair that comes with my luck… “ He trails off, his hand tightening around the edge of the desk. He watches your chest rise and fall for a few seconds; seemingly more out of curiosity than desire. He flashes you another pleasant smile, before turning from you and leaving the classroom with a little wave, leaving you alone and sweaty as the last rays of sunlight begin to disappear. You stare at the ceiling in the dim twilight, feeling another drip of cum ooze out of you. If this kind of thing is what his life is full of, you think to yourself…

Then you’ll be having a lot of fun.


End file.
